


adage

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Fundraisers, M/M, Post-Pacifist Ending, humans are still assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Clearing his throat, Connor tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. This suit was nothing at all like the one he’d worn for CyberLife, but it was every bit as restrictive. It made him feel like he was choking. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t particularly feel at ease in it either and the way Markus was looking at him didn’t help in the slightest. And androids didn’t feel the temperature, not in any way that mattered except in cases where the environment might lead to immanent catastrophic failure, but Connor has seen enough movies by now to finally maybe know what those actors meant when they asked if it felt like it was getting warmer in here.





	adage

Neither Connor nor Markus made a usual habit of attending these events. And as Connor scanned the room, too crowded, too loud, too glittering, he was beginning to wonder why they’d agreed to come to this one at all. There seemed little enough point and it was grating enough that Connor had turned down the sensitivity of his audio processors just to limit the one source of annoyance he had any control over. As Markus kept a smooth, placid look on his face—still not quite able to hide the pull of a grimace every so often—Connor found himself gratified in this at least: he wasn’t the only one pained to be here.

It was all well and good, he thought, for the humans to take it upon themselves to throw events intended to raise awareness or money or whatever it was they needed to do in order to assuage their guilt. They certainly seemed happy enough, dressed in suits and every sparkling shade of black, gold, and silver invented by mankind. Drinking champagne so expensive it could’ve purchased new biocomponents for the androids they pretended to be so desperate to help, they laughed with one another and gawked at anyone with an LED and flicked their eyes to the temples of any individuals who lacked one. Just to make certain. It looked to Connor as though they were making a game of trying to figure out just by a glance which of the LED-less individuals were human and which were not.

“Can we go yet?” Connor asked, leaning close, hushed. He tried to keep his tone even and almost envied his old self for how easy that used to be. In those days, he never had a problem playing things close to the vest. In fact, he probably would have happily stood in a war zone if only his human handlers had asked it of him. Well, not happily because he felt nothing one way or the other back then, but he would have done it with no qualms and no desire to be anywhere else.

He refused to acknowledge that he was standing unhappily in a war zone now and only because Markus had asked it of him; it hit too close to something Connor didn’t want to admit to. Which was that Connor would have done a lot of things if only Markus would ask it of him. And since he so rarely did that, it only pleased Connor more when he finally broke down and made the request. That was the only explanation for this.

A smile finally cracked across Markus’s lips, there and gone so quickly only another android might have made note of it at all. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “Suffering shared is suffering halved, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that expression goes,” Connor suggested, dry. This was better already. As long as Markus was talking to him, it made this whole thing more bearable. Honestly, fundraisers. They were the worst. “But I’m on to you, Markus. Next time it won’t be so easy to convince me.” That would likely become demonstrably untrue the next time Markus asked him to do something he didn’t want to do and Connor immediately folded, but if he wanted to fritter away his free will on white lies, it wouldn’t make him any different than anyone else in this room. Though maybe others told bigger lies.

Markus cut a sly look his way, eyebrow arched high on his forehead. His gaze raked Connor up and down, entirely dubious, and he answered, “Uh huh,” like he knew every secret Connor had and was entirely unconvinced by him as a result. “So what’ll it take to convince you then? So I can be prepared.”

A sudden spike in noise on the other side of the room made it difficult for Connor to hear what Markus had asked. Reluctant, he adjusted his audio processors again and replayed what Markus had just said. Androids didn’t blush, but the immediate answers that came to mind weren’t exactly, uh, appropriate for this venue. Those were the answers Connor shoved as deep down inside of himself as he could, the ones he only really let himself think about when he played sparks across his fingertips before he powered down for the night, when he was busy contemplating just what in the hell he was doing here, with these people, doing what he was doing for a cause he wouldn’t have trusted himself with if he was Markus or any of the others.

He’d never been built for this and sometimes it still scared him that he’d taken the safety net of his own programming away from himself.

“I’ll tell you when I think of it,” he said.

The noise, as it turned out, was the band Connor had forgotten about entirely, a ten piece group of musicians from who knew where—human, Connor noted, and couldn’t quite imagine it as anything other than a dig by some passive aggressive organizer from behind the scenes. The noise, too, was the rumbling of excitement as people began pairing off, hands clasped together as they approached the ballroom floor that occupied half of the space. Connor hadn’t even noticed it until now, but it seemed obvious in retrospect, that part of the floor having a much higher sheen than the rest.

A handful of the android guests, curiosities at best for most of the humans here, also took to the same stretch of floor. They mostly paired together, their hands turning white as their skin retracted to let them better feel one another, but a few found human partners and seemed pleased enough with themselves for it. Good for them.

It was strange to think that this was the way things were now, when it was so easy to remember all the ways he himself had been hated simply for doing the job he’d been programmed to do.

“What are you thinking?” Markus asked, eyes intent. “You’ve got a look on your face.”

“Nothing,” Connor answered, because it was true. After a fashion anyway. The nebulous forms his thoughts were taking were nothing he could articulate in any real way. How could he explain the pang he felt in words? The twinge in his chest when he remembered how it had been and what there still was left to do? Besides, Markus already knew Connor’s thoughts. He lived them just as much as Connor did. There wasn’t a thing Connor could say that wouldn’t be completely pointless and asinine. “They look like they’re having fun.”

And that was true, too. People continued to laugh, to smile, human and android alike. There wasn’t a single thing about any of them that suggested they were anything other than happy to be here. Though Connor couldn’t quite empathize with that, he wanted to. He wanted the chance to be close to someone, clasp their hands in his, sway with the imperfect time kept by the musicians creating imprecise music that still managed to be beautiful even if the androids in the audience sometimes found themselves unable to keep their steps smooth, anticipating a beat that was just a microsecond too quick or too slow. Connor wanted it to be as easy as it seemed tonight.

“They do,” Markus agreed, not bland, but not too interested either, like Connor’s words were skittish creatures that he was afraid to scare away. His weight shifted from side to side. He rubbed his hands together and then tried to stuff him into the pockets of his trousers like they were the jeans he usually wore. “Could be they know what they’re doing dancing like that.”

Connor wasn’t a trained negotiator for nothing, hadn’t been handed over to the Detroit Police Department on a whim for no reason. There was a thread in Markus’s tone that Connor wanted to pull at. He’d never heard it before and he’d heard Markus in every conceivable mood and then some. This was something new and it was something Connor probably shouldn’t have looked at too closely in the middle of a fundraiser that neither of them wanted to be attending, but sometimes free will was a bitch and he couldn’t help himself. “Do you want to dance?” was what he asked instead of _do you want to dance with me_ because Connor had never danced in his life and he’d certainly never have wanted to do so in front of other people and Markus had never seemed like the sort who would, but now that the thought was lodged in his brain, Connor couldn’t quite shake it. “I’m sure you could find a partner around here somewhere.”

Connor made a show of scanning the crowd. There were at least twelve different people who were eyeing Markus with interest and hope and another few who kept sending furtive glances his way, bashful smiles on their mouths, but no hope to show for it. Markus noticed none of this though, not that Connor could tell. No, he only seemed interested in Connor and what Connor had to say, his attention fully on him. “I’m sure I could.”

Clearing his throat, Connor tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. This suit was nothing at all like the one he’d worn for CyberLife, but it was every bit as restrictive. It made him feel like he was choking. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t particularly feel at ease in it either and the way Markus was looking at him didn’t help in the slightest. And androids didn’t feel the temperature, not in any way that mattered except in cases where the environment might lead to immanent catastrophic failure, but Connor has seen enough movies by now to finally maybe know what those actors meant when they asked if it felt like it was getting warmer in here. Maybe not physically, but there was something inside of him that felt like it was running just that little bit above the optimal for which he had no good explanation.

Some parts of going deviant weren’t the most pleasant; something like this never would’ve happened when he was a machine alone, a pawn in CyberLife’s game of life and death, cover up and denial. But even if it was a surprise, and therefore unwelcome, Connor wouldn’t have taken it away from himself. This was who he was now, all these little actions and reactions forming a jumbled mess of a person. Uncomfortable though it could be at times, he didn’t regret it.

“So why don’t you?” Connor asked.

Markus smiled and it was tinged with sadness, wistfulness, another thing Connor had never heard in Markus’s voice. “I’m not sure what you would say if I asked.”

“You want to ask me?” There was no mechanism in his throat that could make it dry the way he’d read in books, but he swallowed anyway, the bits and pieces that formed his vocal units clicking as he worked through the implications. “To dance?”

Markus rolled his shoulder and looked away, his nonchalance entirely undermined by the tension in his back. “Maybe.”

“I didn’t know you danced.” Connor took a few steps and rounded on him, placed himself directly in front of Markus and tilted his upper body so that even if he looked away, he was forced to see Connor. “Since when?”

Though he frowned, Markus managed to look at Connor with something akin to pleasant equanimity. Soothing, Connor might have called it, if he was in the mood to be soothed. “Since always.”

Connor’s brows furrowed as he thought that through. Markus wasn’t a man given to exaggeration. Unlike many of the people Connor had dealt with in his life, he always said what he meant and knew better than most how much weight his words carried. For that reason alone, Connor couldn’t write him off even though he wanted to. Why should he want to dance with Connor? And why didn’t Connor have any idea at all that it was something he wanted to begin with? This felt like something he should have seen coming.

It was easy to work through all the angles, all the possible responses he could make to Markus’s suggestion, but it was difficult to model how Markus would react to each. Presumably he’d be happy if Connor said yes. But whether he would actually be disappointed if Connor said no was the question that tugged at the back of Connor’s thoughts. It wasn’t even that Connor didn’t want to dance, it was just that he—

He didn’t know how he felt. He wanted it too much, he found, now that the possibility was being dangled in front of him. Letting himself be swayed by that much externalized desire…?

How different was it really from CyberLife continually slavering over what he was doing, whether he was fulfilling the programming they set out for him. _I don’t want to disappoint you, Amanda_ could so easily turn into _I don’t want to disappoint you, Markus_.

Markus might not make him hunt down deviants if Connor gave that much of himself over to him, but it still sat, an uneasy weight, in his chest.

The problem wasn’t Markus, though. Connor couldn’t imagine a situation where the problem was Markus. It was Connor and how little Connor trusted himself.

“Connor?” Markus’s hand rested on Connor’s shoulder, a comforting weight that Connor absolutely wanted to turn into. “Is everything all right? I hope I haven’t made things awkward here.”

“No,” Connor answered, dredging up his sense of humor from somewhere deep in the pit of his nonexistent stomach. Now he knew, too, what it was for humans to feel butterflies there. He’d always found the image quaint before, charmingly strange in the way so many human expressions were. Now he knew it for the damning sensation that it was. Finding a smile he could actually manage to plaster across his mouth, he added, “I think I’m doing a perfectly good job of that myself.”

That got a laugh out of Markus at least and set his eyes twinkling. “Hey,” he said, casual and careful. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.” His eyes searched the groups still twirling and twisting on the far side of the room. He managed to look as though he wanted nothing more than to be over there, all while wearing the most neutral expression Connor had ever seen. It made something in his pump regulator twitch, something undefinable and unpleasant and Connor wanted to set it right immediately. “No pressure, right?”

No, Connor wasn’t feeling pressure from anyone but himself here. Totally his own fault. But a part of him couldn’t stand the thought of Markus being so kind to him just to be rebuffed. It was a dance, not an interrogation. At the end of it, Connor wouldn’t be expected to betray anyone. Markus had never steered him wrong and, more than that, he never asked Connor to do anything, not beyond silly things like attend fundraisers.

Just because Connor wanted it didn’t mean he shouldn’t have it, he decided. There was nothing worrisome in a dance, nothing wrong with it. No reason to let it spiral beyond that. Markus’s care made Connor feel brittle, breakable, and he didn’t want that because it wasn’t true. 

“I want to.” Connor reached for Markus’s hand and squeezed, pleased with the startled pleasure that Markus couldn’t quite hide beneath the placidly calm exterior he was trying to project. “I was just surprised is all. I didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Markus’s gaze grew suspicious, but Markus wasn’t the only one with a decent poker face. Whatever he saw on Connor’s assuaged him, because he relaxed and squeezed back. “You’ve never seen me dance.”

The words were spoken with bravado, false with over the top bragging, and Connor knew immediately that he was being teased here. But as Markus pulled him toward the dance floor, he couldn’t bring himself to mind in the slightest. And as Markus placed his hand on Connor’s hip, the weight of it reassuring, Connor couldn’t say this was the worst day he’d spent around a bunch of humans in recent memory, even if he still kind of wished they hadn’t had to come.

It wasn’t like they couldn’t dance anywhere they wanted to.

And now that the option was on the table, Connor wanted to. Desperately. “This is nice,” he said, maybe unnecessary as Markus pulled him just that little bit closer. “But you do realize I’m going to expect this from now on, don’t you?”

Markus smiled and ducked his head. “Is this going to be how I convince you to come to these functions, then? Promises of a dance?”

“Maybe,” Connor admitted.

“Well,” Markus said, sounding supremely pleased with himself, “I think that’s definitely something I can do.”

And to be fair to him, he did. It was probably worth it given how often Markus started asking him to come along. No, Connor would eventually decide, it was definitely worth it.


End file.
